The Second Renaissance Series Boxset

by Paul Heron

  They waited in the torture room.

  ‘I’m calling Carolina,’ Sofia said, sitting down on the torture chair like it was a chair from her family’s kitchen. The call was answered after two rings. ‘Ola, Carolina. How’s Eduardo?’ She twiddled with one of the chair straps like it was a shoe lace, completely oblivious to the fact it was used to tie someone down to be tortured.

  Michael looked at Sofia’s behaviour as strange and thought George was right. Maybe they did need to see a councillor. Sofia had just shot dead a man to save Michael. And clearly, the way she was acting was not normal.

  She put her phone on loudspeaker and sat back in the chair, hands behind her head as if on a sun lounger.

  ‘Sofia, ciao!’ Carolina said. ‘What’s happened there? Eduardo and I have come up with an idea.’

  ‘Scarlett has had to ditch the car. We’re waiting for her.’ Sofia looked at Michael and Mohammad. Michael was still wiping bird crap from his head. ‘Now we’re waiting at a Mancini torture room, in an abandoned warehouse. Michael and Mohammad had a lover’s tiff and are covered in bird shit!’ She looked at Marcel, ‘oh, yeah, and Marcel thinks the new “badass” Sofia is sexy.’

  Marcel smiled fixing his already perfect hair, nodding in agreement.

  ‘Marcel thinks anything with a heart beat and two breasts is sexy,’ Carolina said.

  ‘I love you too, Carolina.’ Marcel shouted into the phone.

  ‘What’s this big idea you and Eduardo are working on?’ Michael shouted at the device.

  ‘Well, it’s hopefully going to be a more developed L’amico. One we can use for longer, that won't be dangerous to others while it’s activated. But Eduardo is working quite slowly.’

  Scarlett ran through the door. ‘Is everyone okay? That was close.’

  ‘What happened?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Everyone was being questioned. When the officer called to his colleague for backup, I knew I'd be detained, and you guys would be in trouble. I knew they were not human just by the way they were acting.’ She hopped up onto the old wooden desk where Mohammad found the documents. ‘I should have brought the special bullets.’

  ‘Special bullets?’ Marcel said.

  ‘They will kill, or at least hurt any creature from the Otherworld.’

  ‘We need to get some of them guns,’ Mohammad said. ‘And the car?’

  ‘Wrecked.’

  ‘Thought it was bullet proof?’ Sofia said.

  ‘Yes, but these guys aren’t stupid. They shot the tyres.’

  ‘Well, we can’t wait here,’ Marcel said.

  ‘Yeah unless you want some time in the chair.’ Mohammad was half joking. ‘I want to go watch some football.’

  ‘What’s wrong with hiding out here?’ Scarlett asked, sweating in her navy coloured suit, her black bra showing through her cream blouse.

  ‘We’ll tell you on the way. Wait a minute, Mohammad – take photos of those documents and leave them back in the drawer. We don’t want them to know we’ve been here.’

  Mohammad took a few snapshots and threw the documents back into the desk drawer. He chuckled proudly. ‘The perfect crime. I should be a private investigator.’

  ‘Like battling the world’s most dangerous organisation and realising the existence of gods isn’t challenging enough?’ Marcel said.

  ‘Let’s go.’ Michael checked his phone. ‘According to Sirani Maps, there's a farm just three miles up the road.’

  ‘Hold on,’ Scarlett said, rummaging through her handbag. She ran over to the far end of the room. A dinner plate sized wall clock was mounted above the desk. She pulled it down and opened it up from behind. ‘This little baby will be our ears if anybody interesting decides to have a meeting. Okay, let’s go.’

  Chapter Seven

  WHILE RUNNING ACROSS the field next to the warehouse, Michael had a brain wave. ‘Hold on. Wait.’ He stopped dead in his tracks. The others stopped. They came back to him, breathing heavily.

  ‘We need to keep moving,’ Sofia said.

  ‘Maybe we should hang around. See if the Mancini agents come? And any Fomorians. I want to see exactly what we’re up against.’

  He looked at them all. None of them seemed opposed. Especially Mohammad, getting out of running a few miles seemed appealing.

  ‘Yeah, why not,’ Sofia said, catching her breath. ‘I’d like to see how much of a handful they’ll be, too.’

  Marcel jumped in. ‘Maybe they’ll give us the location of the French fragment.’ He smiled, rubbing his hands in excitement. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be saying goodbye to France today. I can feel it.’ He looked at Michael. ‘We can spread a few of these Fomorians around that sorry excuse for a carpark. Beat the information out of them.’

  ‘Easy, tiger,’ Scarlett said. ‘We need to get the president as well. All of our world leaders need to receive the antidote to get off the drug, if it works.’

  ‘And if it doesn’t?’ Mohammad said.

  ‘Then our world is run by Fomorians, and we’ve got a massive fight on our hands.’

  ‘What’s his name? The French president?’ Mohammad said, running his fingers through his hair, sweating.

  ‘Jacques Charvet. He lives in Palais de l'Élysée in Paris,’ Scarlett’s expression turned serious, almost demonic. Her hazel eyes narrowed, and her nostrils flared. ‘And I’m sure that bitch Mallory Couture has him eating out of the palm of her hand.’

  ‘Who’s she?’ Sofia asked.

  ‘She’s Mancini Corporation’s French director.’ Scarlett folded her arms defensively as if the lady in question was there. ‘Trust me, the Mancini bosses in Italy love her. She’s one nasty bitch and rules her little sheep with both an iron fist and big breasts.’

  ‘Can’t wait until I meet her,’ Sofia said, folding her arms, mirroring Scarlett.

  ‘Look.’ Marcel pointed a couple of hundred meters up a steep, almost vertical hill directly behind the warehouse. It looked like the beginning of a forest. ‘It’ll be a good location to spot anyone coming.’

  ‘Pierre and Avril will be here soon,’ Scarlett said. ‘Another car is what we really need. The football match isn’t going to wait on us.’

  ‘Who the hell are they?’ Mohammad asked.

  Scarlett checked her phone. ‘French Sirani agents!’

  ‘Do we know what car they're coming in?’ Sofia said.

  ‘I’m calling them now, make sure they’re tracking us.’

  The group made their way up the hill.

  ‘Avril. It’s Scarlett. Are you tracking us?’

  ‘Yes, Ajit is tracking you. We’re not far, maybe one hour until we reach you.’

  ‘Great,’ Scarlett said, breathing heavily as they climbed the hill. ‘What kind of car?’

  ‘I’m driving a blue Ford Ranger, or as the Americans like to call it “pickup”. Ajit is with me. Pierre is following in a black Audi Q7.’

  ‘Okay, see you soon.’ Scarlett ended the call.

  ‘Right, the French fragment can’t be that far away. We just need to find Charvet and get him to talk,’ Sofia said.

  ‘Umm, guys. It isn’t going to be that easy,’ Mohammad said, swiping across the screen of his phone. ‘According to these documents, something is going to happen at the football match tonight.’

  Michael suddenly felt his stomach churn. The match. Dad will be there. ‘What does it say? Does it give specifics?’ Michael said, trying to remain calm.

  ‘It says France will be a night of riots, similar to the riots in Belfast during the Christmas 2012 flag dispute. I’m glad I wasn’t in Belfast in 2012.’ Mohammad paused. His face looked more shocked. ‘Their plan is to create as much mayhem as possible so that Charvet has reason to flee the area to safety. They apparently have a safe house for him in South France. Like, oh, let me guess - Marseille.’

  ‘Maybe that’s where the fragment has ended up,’ Marcel said.

  ‘It also says Charvet will be in trouble after Irish football fans get upset.’ Moham
mad looked at Michael. ‘Hopefully, your family isn’t there.’

  ‘I’d be very surprised if at least my dad isn’t here. He’s the North Belfast supporters club organiser-’ Michael’s voice trailed off. He tried to look calm as if this wasn’t bothering him, but it was. His fidgeting hands proved it. Ever since leaving Ireland on Friday, he’d wanted nothing more than to see his dad. And now there was a possibility that his dad would be in the same place as him, but in danger.

  ‘I’m calling George.’ Michael pulled his phone out. Looking at the Sirani logo on the top of his phone screen reminded him of the lady they were fighting to help, and who was helping them. Was she really the Goddess of Creation, due to rule the Otherworld? But how would she overthrow the Donn?

  ‘George, have you managed to contact our families yet?’ Michael’s voice was shaking, whilst displaying a sense of urgency. His breaths became shorter, more rapid. He put the phone on loudspeaker.

  ‘Michael, we’ve got everyone but your dad. According to your mother, he’s-’

  ‘In France with the supporter’s club,’ Michael finished for George, feeling a sense of everything collapse inside his body as if the bottom had fallen out of his stomach.

  ‘That bitch, Mallory will make him suffer,’ Scarlett said.

  ‘We’re not far from Marseille now,’ George said. ‘When Avril and Pierre arrive, get to the football match. And Michael, don't worry. We’ll look after your dad and the supporters. Your job is to get Charvet.’

  Michael hung up the phone without responding. ‘We’ll get Charvet before he leaves with Mancini agents. We’ll do it at the stadium.’

  ‘Michael, he sits in the stand,’ Scarlett said. ‘There will be eyes on us.’

  Marcel laughed. ‘More eyes than when Captain Fantastic here delivered the message in the jungle?’

  A roaring car engine in the distance caused them to look in the direction of the warehouse.

  ‘That’s not our guys,’ Sofia said.

  It was a white Mercedes-Benz S class, the AMG type with a roaring 3.0 litre engine. It stopped in the carpark. The driver’s door opened. A short, slim lady with huge breasts in a tight-fitting suit got out of the driver’s side. She was wearing sunglasses, and even though there was no sun she didn’t take them off.

  ‘Man, she's hot!’ Marcel said, checking his suit was tidy and his tie was in order.

  ‘She is.’ Michael agreed with Marcel minus the fixing of his suit.

  Sofia looked at both Michael and Marcel, tutting, ‘men!’

  ‘Yes, she is striking,’ Scarlett said. ‘But that bitch uses her model good looks to entice men. That’s Mancini Corporation’s French director.’

  ‘She can’t be here on her own,’ Michael said as they watched her walk around to the back of the car and remove a golf bag from the boot.

  ‘I guarantee there are no golf clubs in that bag,’ Mohammad said.

  As Mohammad spoke, a grey Audi A8 arrived. When the car stopped, five men got out. All dressed in black suits with a plain white shirt and black tie - the Mancini Corporation uniform.

  ‘They look like undertakers.’ Marcel sniggered.

  Michael watched as Sofia clenched her fist.

  Mohammad pulled his phone from his pocket. ‘I’ll call Ajit, tell them not to come directly to the warehouse.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Michael said. ‘Tell him we’ve also bugged the torture room. Tell him to listen in and record it.’

  ‘Was that car at the check point earlier?’ Marcel said.

  ‘Seems like it,’ Scarlett replied. ‘Can’t read the plate from here. But it would make sense. They’ve probably got the Land Rover some...’ She trailed off. ‘There it is.’

  They all watched as the Land Rover pulled up outside the warehouse beside the other cars.

  ‘Michael, you’re not going to like this,’ Scarlett said.

  ‘What?’ Michael looked down at the car. ‘Tell me that’s not Oisin McLaughlin?’

  Their eyes were not deceiving them. The former Northern Irish minister exited the Audi escorted by the Mancini agents.

  Marcel looked at Michael. ‘What the hell’s going on?’

  They looked on.

  Two French police officers got out of the Freelander. At the speed of light, they changed. Exploding out of their clothes. They casually strolled around the Freelander, at least eight feet tall, muscular and grotesque with nothing but dirty white rags covering their private region. McLaughlin shouted something at the two. They both shouted back at him. He raised his voice, pointing his finger at them aggressively. There was a moment of tension, then they both looked at each other and changed back into their human form, taking up the role of police officers again.

  Marcel looked at Michael. ‘Well, at least we know what we’re up against.’

  Chapter Eight

  SOFIA’S PHONE RANG. ‘It’s Carolina....’ She kept her eyes on the warehouse. ‘I’m putting you on loudspeaker.’

  ‘Eduardo has asked me to deliver the good news.’ Everyone looked at each other. ‘He’s thought of a way to alter L’amico, so that we can select only frequency bands that we need to shut down and keep open what we need to keep open. It’ll make it safer. Planes and other vehicles can still find their destinations.’ She laughed. ‘This guy’s one smart ass. I’m excited to see what he pulls out of the hat next.’

  ‘He’s improved fast.’ Marcel shouted at the phone.

  ‘But Ajit has the device?’ Sofia said.

  ‘He does. But Eduardo said he can work on the device’s software from the laptop. He doesn’t need it to be physically present.’

  ‘Great, we’ll keep you posted.’ Sofia ended the call. ‘What’s got your attention?’ she asked Michael. He was gazing at his phone as if he was under a spell.

  ‘I’m reading UTV News. It’s an Irish news programme. It's saying Oisin McLaughlin has visited France as a sign of support for the Republic of Ireland.’

  ‘Well, we all know how trustworthy the news is,’ Marcel sniggered. ‘We need Brazil here. Then we have a real game.’ He took off his sunglasses, wiped them with his navy tie and put them back on again. ‘But what are we doing? I’m getting bored waiting around.’

  ‘Me too.’ Sofia agreed. ‘It’s just after four p.m. We need to get to the stadium before it’s over. That’s our best chance to grab Charvet.’

  ‘Oisin McLaughlin will join Charvet for the game,’ Scarlett said. ‘And, of course, her-’ She trailed off, gesturing towards the white AMG. Couture was getting into the back, with McLaughlin after her. One of the Mancini agents followed McLaughlin into the back of the car. Two other agents getting into the front.

  ‘I can guess where they’re headed.’ Michael's phone rang. ‘Where are you now, Ajit?’

  ‘We’re close. The conversation I listened to confirms McLaughlin is joining Charvet at the game tonight. But when McLaughlin left the room with Couture, the other agents joked about arresting a North Belfast supporter bus.’

  ‘My father’s on that bus!’ Michael shouted, watching as the AMG pulled out of the car park and drove north towards Paris. ‘We need to get there. If my father’s in danger, we’re going to stop it. How long until you arrive? They're leaving now, I think for the match, so get here as soon as possible.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ajit confirmed. ‘We heard them say they’re heading to the match now. Avril said we’re only five minutes away. We’re on the A6 now. Be with you in a minute.’ Ajit ended the call.

  Michael started to fidget, his secret desire to see his father was now part of the mission, but he wasn’t sure it was a blessing or a curse. By the end of the day, he would have the answer. Either way, he was determined to see him.

  Making their way towards the warehouse, they noticed the building had Lavizzi Products across the top of the huge rolling door.

  ‘Didn’t know Mancini was a clothing manufacturer as well,’ Mohammad laughed.

  ‘It was their cover business,’ Scarlett replied. ‘Couture has
had many people tortured in there.’

  ‘Well, I guess they don’t need a cover anymore. Now that they've governments in their pockets,’ Sofia said.

  ‘Not for long, we’ll make sure of that,’ Marcel slapped Michael across the back.

  ‘Got that right,’ Michael said, putting his arm around Marcel to his left and Sofia to his right. ‘Let’s go tear shit up!’

  Michael could feel the spirits lifting, and even more so when Avril and Pierre arrived. Ajit waved out of the window on the passenger side of the Ford. ‘Follow us,’ He shouted, happy to see them again.

  Michael opened the pickup’s front passenger door. ‘Here, Scarlett.’ He held the door open for her to jump in.

  ‘Very sweet, Michael. Thank you.’ She pecked him on the cheek in passing.

  ‘Get a room,’ Mohammad joked.

  Michael jumped into the rear driver side of the luxurious Q7. The door’s weight proved they were in a Sirani funded vehicle, complete with reinforced doors and bullet proof glass.

  ‘Nice to meet you, I’m Pierre,’ the driver spoke in French. He had shoulder length brown hair, was slim built, and wore a grey suit.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Pierre,’ Michael said, laughing as Sofia admired this handsome French man.

  ‘I don’t like him,’ Mohammad hissed in Michael’s ear. ‘He’s too handsome. He’ll break the girl’s hearts.’

  Michael burst into a fit of laughter. ‘Did you hear that?’ He looked across Mohammad to see Sofia grinning, shaking her head. Marcel was sitting in the front passenger seat, looking serious.

  ‘Nobody will break mine, or I’m sure Carolina’s heart,’ Sofia said.

  ‘How long have you worked for the Sirani Foundation?’ Mohammad began his interrogation.

  Pierre changed the car’s radio station, choosing some pop music. ‘Avril and I were selected at the age of fourteen and were sent to the Sirani training camp.’ He sounded confident in his words and spoke good English. ‘And you guys? Less than one week?’ He laughed. ‘The foundation has a lot of respect for you all. We’ve been waiting for the day Elisabetta Sirani would make her choice and introduce you seven to the world. Now you all know our world is not as you once believed.’